


Loki Laufeyson

by meowfsy



Category: Thor (2011), Thor (Comics)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-28
Updated: 2012-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-06 04:27:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowfsy/pseuds/meowfsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crying? Crying was for the weak.,  or so I liked to tell myself. Which was... Regularly, may I add. I am not saying that I cry regularly, or at all for that matter. Just that it is a foolish and vulnerable thing to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loki Laufeyson

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops I wrote another one. I need to stop listening to depressing music at 2AM. Seriously, comments are appreciated. I would love to know what you think. Whether you like or dislike it. Anyway, enjoy.

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The cold air causes a shiver to crawl underneath his skin and wipe away the small amount of body warmth that was remaining. His breath is stale. No longer can he see the hot carbon particles of his exhales enter the air in front of him, to look like fog. He wraps his arms around his legs. 'This is it. Everything will be over soon', he thinks to himself as a tear freezes solid in its tracks, halfway down his cheek. His eyes slowly seal themselves shut. His heart beat finally stops, as if it was never beating to begin with. Silence.

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Crying? Crying was for the weak.,  or so I liked to tell myself. Which was... Regularly, may I add. I am not saying that I cry regularly, or at all for that matter. Just that it is a foolish and vulnerable thing to do.

Reflections? I hated them. I hated looking at myself, only to see a fool staring back at me. A fool who once thought he could trust. Perhaps even love. 

I heaved myself up from the stone bed in which I had laid. I needed an escape plan, a way out of that hell. That place where I was tortured with lies and taunted by faces of disbelief and betrayal. The place I used to call home. It was sickening. I wanted to vomit.

The door had been opened and my time to act had arisen. However, it was suspicious that there appeared to be nobody around. Who had opened the door for me? Was it an accident, or was it intentional? Nevertheless, I took my leave.

Not a soul in sight. This aided my escape perfectly. I meandered weakly towards the rebuilt bifrost, and came to a halt. Heimdall was gone. Something was undoubtedly wrong. But I had no time to investigate. The emptiness of Asgard was a blessing in my favor. 

Heimdall was not in sight, however his sword had been abandoned in the pedestal. I moved over to the dial and made sure that my last trip away from Asgard would send me somewhere in which I could not be brought back.

After a charge, I was sent away from Asgard in a beam of multicoloured light. Where I had landed, however, was not the Jötunheimr I remembered. 'Oh yes... I destroyed this realm didn't I?' I recalled aloud. I was on a large drifting fragment of the realm that once was. It was arctic, and tranquil.

There was a cave on the small tundra island. I cautiously went ahead to explore it. It was narrow and came to an unexpected dead end rather quickly. Only twenty steps in. 

I turned around and leaned my clothed back against the icy cave wall. It was then that the chilled air began to affect me. I shivered with a small outward hissing sound and sank to the ground. 

What kind of Jötunn succumbs to the cold? Pathetic. What am I, really? I'm a deformity. An accident. Something that was not intended to exist. 

I was abandoned, abducted, fooled, used, betrayed, and broken. Mentally more than anything else. This pain, it hurt. I wanted it to go away. Why did I not die after the fall? It would have made things simpler for everyone. It would have ended my suffering.

Memories of childhood circled through my head. I was gradually overcome with emotions. It started with a silent tear, and then I let out a cry. I didn't stop until I was but a shivering, blubbering mess of what could only be described as pathetic. Even a midgaurdian would have pitied me. Crying is for the weak.

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The cold air causes a shiver to crawl underneath my skin and wipe away the small amount of body warmth that remained. My breath is stale. No longer can I see the hot carbon particles of my exhales enter the air in front of me, to look like fog. I wrap my arms around my legs. 'This is it. Everything will be over soon', I think to myself as a tear freezes solid in its tracks, halfway down my cheek. My eyes slowly seal themselves shut. My heart beat finally stops, as if it was never beating to begin with.

 Silence.

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End file.
